<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Sing About You by TheDogPotato</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069502">Sing About You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDogPotato/pseuds/TheDogPotato'>TheDogPotato</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Whitechapel (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Chandler is amazed, Confessions, First Kiss, Kent plays guitar, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 00:28:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,062</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27069502</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDogPotato/pseuds/TheDogPotato</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of season 4, Kent turns to his old creative outlet to help him deal with his emotions. Chandler’s coping mechanisms are less healthy, but a night of drinking at the pub has a surprise in store for him as a band starts playing.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joseph Chandler/Emerson Kent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sing About You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The flat seemed extra lonely and cold when Kent arrived home – a reminder of what Kent didn’t have. He slammed the door a bit too hard and kicked off his shoes, one of them depositing dirt across his floor. He didn’t care, and as if to emphasize the point, he threw his jacket haphazardly across a chair and watched it slide down to the floor in the periphery of his vision, as he walked to the fridge to get himself a beer. He didn’t have anything stronger, though he felt like he needed it.</p>
<p>If the day had just gone the way he’d hoped, then maybe he would have had a reason to care about the tidiness of his place. Just a couple of hours ago he had let himself hope, taken the leap and asked Chandler out, and it had been a success – until it hadn’t. Life just wasn’t going his way was it.  </p>
<p>He plopped down on the sofa and took a swig of beer. Clenching his teeth, he could feel the all too familiar anger again. It was Mansell of all people who’d inspired him to try, to go after what he was missing, so he wouldn’t feel so angry all of the time, and yet here he was. He saw the distorted reflection of himself in the bottle. He looked away, feeling guilty.</p>
<p>How could he be feeling sorry for himself and his lost date, that wasn’t even a real date, when he’d seen how devastated Chandler was? His own problems were miniscule compared to that. At least he felt like they should be, but he still felt so much, and he didn’t know how to deal with it.</p>
<p>He set the beer aside and sighed deeply, as he buried his face in his hands, flinching slightly at the pressure on his black eye. He sat there for a while. He really had to learn to deal with his emotions in a more constructive manner. His chance with Chandler was lost, though he knew it would change nothing about his feelings, and he couldn’t lose himself the way he had been.</p>
<p>He’d always <em>felt</em> a lot, but he used to have a creative outlet though it had been tossed aside in favour of work, but maybe – he looked up from his hands towards his bedroom – maybe he could try again.  </p>
<p>He hoisted himself from the sofa and headed for the bedroom. He found what he was looking for underneath the bed. An old dusty guitar case. He opened it to reveal an old friend he hadn’t played since he used to be in a band with his friends. Two of them had gone on to form a new band when Kent had been too pressed for time due to work and had to quit. He used to watch them regularly, but even that, he hadn’t had time for in a long time, though he still kept in touch with them.</p>
<p>He grabbed the guitar and headed for the sofa again, sitting down to tune, he started to play an old favourite of his, but it soon started diverting into him messing around, singing whatever came into his mind.</p>
<p>The chorus came easy to him, words flowing like they were meant to be expressed in the form of a song, and he felt slightly excited about creating something again. It quickly became the sole focus of his to finish it, and he continued deep into the night, fuelled by a creative energy he hadn’t felt in a long time.</p>
<p>He finally went to bed, exhausted but with a new hope amidst the darkness. He had lost a lot lately, but for once he had refound something.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Chandler felt broken. He really was horrible at his job. So many people had died, and he could have prevented it if he had just listened, but he hadn’t and now he had to pay for it. Miles had tried to encourage him, tried to keep him from punishing himself over the failure, but Chandler had shut him out.</p>
<p>He’d shut himself away at the station and at home, let his thoughts and compulsions take over, knowing he was making it worse by using it to try and exert control, and by not meeting his body’s basic needs. After all, thoughts didn’t exist independent of the flesh, and how could he work his best if he wasn’t even giving himself the basic needs for survival?</p>
<p>But he didn’t care. He didn’t deserve the comfort of food or sleep, of leisure or company. He kept his own self-torture up until he couldn’t stand it anymore and had to cave to a deep sleep.</p>
<p>It was a weird sensation when he finally woke up again in the evening. On one hand he felt more clearheaded, but on the other he felt right on the edge of falling into the same hole again. A part of him was telling him to get himself together, to get up and get something to eat before he died of starvation, and to get back on the horse, while the other wanted to continue where he left off.</p>
<p>He listened to the first. He had to suppress the other, somehow. Sleep had helped, maybe food would too, but he realised he didn’t have anything of substance in his home. The extra challenge of being able to get some food was almost enough for him to give into his bad side again, but he overcame it.</p>
<p>He had a shower and put on some new clothes other than the ones he’d fallen asleep in. It was refreshing, and although it was a small goal to go out and get some food, it felt like he was already on his way of achieving something for the first time since the failure of the case. Some days you had to take small steps.</p>
<p>The air outside was colder than he’d anticipated, stinging his lungs, and he knew the trip would be shorter than he’d expected at first. When he came across a pub that served food, he made a split-second decision and headed inside. The promise of alcohol to quiet his mind and escape the horrible reality of his life for a bit, was something he’d considered in the days past, but he’d ultimately decided against it, telling himself that he deserved to think and feel everything clearly.</p>
<p>He knew it wasn’t healthy to drink away his troubles either, but he just needed <em>something</em> right now, and when was he ever doing things that were good for him anyway?</p>
<p>Once he’d eaten, and the drink had given him a pleasant buzz, he noticed that many more people had gathered in the pub. He wondered if he should take this as his cue to leave, but they were mainly gathering further inside, and now Chandler noticed some people walking about setting up some sort of stage with instruments.</p>
<p>It seemed as if he could still be relatively at peace in the corner, and he’d only just started drinking. He could stay there for a while longer.</p>
<p>The band gathered on stage to a cheer and delved straight into a song. The audience crowded even further around the stage. Chandler decided that he could live with the background noise. It wasn’t bad, though he didn’t pay it much mind.</p>
<p>The band were quite a few songs into their set when the lead singer announced:</p>
<p>“The people who have seen us before have probably noticed this handsome fella who isn’t usually playing with us.”</p>
<p>The crowd roared. Chandler glanced in their direction, his eyes skimming across the band though he didn’t know any of them.</p>
<p>“And if there are any long-time fans, they might even recognise him from our previous band.”</p>
<p>A couple of women cheered loudly.</p>
<p>“Wow, you’ve been following us for that long? How aren’t you tired of us yet?” The lead singer grinned, and people laughed.</p>
<p>Chandler’s eyes had fallen upon the man who was being presented, though he was currently slightly obscured from Chandler’s point of view, standing further back. Dark hair and black tightfitting clothes, contrasting pale skin. Chandler could see how he could be the kind of type to have his own Ella Bowe. His mouth soured at the train of thought quickly leading to the killer they’d lost during that case. He was already slightly spiralling when the lead singer spoke again.</p>
<p>“Well we thought we’d give him a chance to shine a bit as well tonight, so this next song is written by him. Please give a big round of applause for Emerson! Kent!”</p>
<p>The crowd cheered as the song began.</p>
<p>Chandler’s head shot up at the words. Had he misheard? Was this just a weird coincidence? But no. The man he’d seen before stepped to the front and Chandler recognized him clear as day and wondered how he hadn’t recognized him before. He’d even seen him wear a similar outfit before when they’d gone to The Hooded Crow.</p>
<p>He started to sing, and Chandler was impressed by his voice. The lyrics indicated that it was a breakup song, but Chandler still couldn’t get past the fact that <em>Kent </em>was on stage, singing and playing, and he had just stumbled into it.</p>
<p>Chandler wasn’t much of a concert goer, but he could tell that Kent was giving it his all, especially as he launched into the chorus:</p>
<p>
  <em>“I’ve got black eyes, dried blood, and broken skin.<br/>The skin is to keep my demons in. <br/>The demons are to keep me in the songs that I sing, <br/>and sing about you.”</em>
</p>
<p>He couldn’t help but admire the passion with which Kent was singing. His eyes were closed as if his only focus was on the song and the world around him was lost to him in this moment.</p>
<p>He started to notice the lyrics more. Who was he singing about? Who could make him sing so passionately? He hadn’t given much thought to his constable’s love life before, but then again why would he? With Mansell he’d had no choice but to hear about it every time there’d been someone new, and both Miles and Riley had spouses they loved and talked about, but Kent had never shared any information of that kind and Chandler had never sought it out. He shouldn’t be, really, but Kent was singing this song publicly, so it didn’t really count as snooping, did it? Whoever it was, he had to have loved them. Or maybe Chandler was reading too much into the lyrics. Musicians could write about anything and from the perspective of anyone. It didn’t have to be personal, but he still got the impression that that was the case, especially as Kent started a softer version of the chorus. The amount of feeling he put into it had Chandler mesmerized. They ramped it up for the next chorus and before Chandler knew the song was done and for the first time that evening, he was clapping along with the rest of the crowd.</p>
<p>“Once more for Emerson Kent!” The lead singer shouted as he clapped Kent on the shoulder, and Kent grinned brightly at him, as people cheered again.</p>
<p>The singer presented the next song and Kent stepped further back again, getting slightly obscured from Chandler again, but he was curious now, and moved so he had a better look at the stage and Kent.</p>
<p>Kent was less intense now that he wasn’t performing his own song, but he looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. It was a long time since Chandler had seen him this happy.</p>
<p>Throughout the show he just looked like he was having a lot of fun with the others on stage, fooling around and playing off of each other. Sometimes Chandler would notice him saying something to one of the others, and then laugh at their response. It made him feel something, but he wasn’t sure what it was. He’d turn to the people in the crowd and nod and smile and was instrumental in hyping up the crowd. He had an amazing stage presence and charisma, and it was like seeing him in a completely different light to the man who was his co-worker.</p>
<p>Chandler was so enthralled by the music that he for the time being allowed himself to not think about everything else, and just enjoy the show.  </p>
<p>When the lead singer announced it was the last song, Chandler almost felt compelled to join the audience going: aww, although not quite. He did however clap loudly for an encore, and again when Kent was announced once more as the band members were presented.</p>
<p>He felt almost sad as the lights changed, the pub stereo started to play some generic song, and the crowd started to disperse. He could easily have enjoyed the whole show again. If he could watch it from the top, he could’ve kept an eye out for Kent from the very beginning. He missed more than a half hour at the start just staring into his glass.</p>
<p>The band had announced they would give autographs at a table after a short break, and an excited mumbling of the remaining crowd, told Chandler that they were arriving now. Kent was among them, but he could see that he was hanging back. That made sense, since he wasn’t actually a part of the band. He didn’t seem to mind though and was just chilling with a beer behind the other bandmembers.</p>
<p>Chandler wasn’t sure why, but as soon as people gathered there, and he couldn’t see them, see Kent, well anymore, he got up and walked closer. Standing at a distance where he could watch Kent without getting too close, as people came up and chatted with the band.</p>
<p>A couple of women, maybe the ones who had cheered earlier, had gathered giddily around Kent to talk and get his autograph, and he was confidently talking with his free hand gesticulating and a bright smile on his face, as the women looked at him with adoration in their eyes. They got flirtier and while Kent didn’t falter in his chill demeanour, he didn’t seem to reciprocate.</p>
<p>Was Kent gay? Hadn’t Chandler heard that from Miles, or was it Mansell, at some point? He couldn’t quite remember. He didn’t know why it mattered, if only as an explanation to Kent’s lack of interest.</p>
<p>He was so focused on Kent that he didn’t realise that a queue had formed around him, and it was now his turn.</p>
<p>“Hey! Thanks for coming!” The lead singer said with a smile, startling Chandler as he realised it was him, he was talking to.</p>
<p>“Oh!” he said. “Yeah, um, good show, it- I-“ he couldn’t find the words, and his attention was grabbed, as he saw Kent’s head whip around.</p>
<p>His confident demeanour faltered as he exclaimed: “Sir?!”</p>
<p>The band members shared a surprised and knowing look.</p>
<p>Chandler felt like a deer caught in the headlights. He didn’t know why he had come closer. He didn’t have anything to say to Kent. He wasn’t even sure he had wanted him to see him there, especially not now that his mere presence had turned Kent from confidence to fear. He had just felt compelled to come and see him, and now everyone was looking at him, but all he could do was stammer out a: “G-great performance!”</p>
<p>He felt himself get hotter in the people filled space that was already too hot, and every icky sensation started to claw its way back to his consciousness, the thoughts he’d forgotten announcing their awful presence again. He was completely overwhelmed and froze except for his one hand that found its way into his pocket fumbling with the lid to his tiger balm.</p>
<p>Kent’s scared expression faded into a softer worry, and he assertively walked over and grabbed Chandler’s lower arm. “Come on,” he said, a gentle command, and Chandler let himself be led away from the curious gazes of the band and the other onlookers.  </p>
<p>The cold air gripped him as Kent led him out the back door. It was even colder now as he’d left his coat inside, but it seemed to clear his head a bit. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, gathering his thoughts for a moment. When he opened them again, he was met with Kent’s big, worried eyes.</p>
<p>“You alright, sir?”</p>
<p>“Yeah I’m better now.”</p>
<p>Kent’s brow furrowed. “Something happen at work, sir? I’m sorry, my phone is packed away in a bag somewhere, but I’m not on call, so I thought it would be alright-“</p>
<p>“Oh no. It’s fine. It’s not about work,” Chandler said to assuage Kent’s worry. Kent looked like he was looking for a further explanation, but Chandler didn’t provide it.</p>
<p>There was a pause.</p>
<p>“Why are y-” Kent began uncertainly. “I’m just confused, sir. I can’t say I expected to see you here of all places. I didn’t really think it was your kind of style. The music. The crowd.”</p>
<p>Chandler huffed. “No, I- I did not- It usually wouldn’t be, and I didn’t plan to go here. I just happened upon the place. I didn’t know there would be music. I certainly didn’t expect to see you playing.”</p>
<p>Kent ducked his head. “How much did you see?”</p>
<p>“It didn’t start until after I’d arrived</p>
<p>Kent exhaled sharply. “So, all of it?” He looked up at Chandler, looking unsure of himself.</p>
<p>It was very different from how he’d been on stage. He’d really seemed in his element, and yet the everyday Kent was more like the Kent before him now. Why had he chosen a life like that? Maybe he hadn’t known what it would bring. Chandler certainly hadn’t when all he’d dreamt of being was like his father. But Kent still had a chance. He could choose a different path, something like this. Chandler felt the urge to tell him.</p>
<p>“Yes, but it was wonderful,” Kent looked taken aback, but Chandler continued: “You seem like you’re right at home on a stage. You seemed so happy. Haven’t you considered doing this full time?”</p>
<p>“Hah!” Kent exclaimed. “Of course I have! I used to be in a band with the guys in there, and I really properly considered it back then, but then I went from uniform to being a DC, and it took up much more of my time, and I realised I had a certain future ahead of me as a DC, but not as a musician, and since we had different ideas of what level we wanted to be on, I had to stop being a musician, though no hard feelings, we’re still mates, as you can see-“</p>
<p>Chandler now noticed that Kent was more than slightly drunk from the way he started to rant. It was usually only a couple of steps before you would find him asleep with his head on a table.</p>
<p>“- and it was hard not having that outlet anymore, and being the new guy, and I could still remember what that felt like when you joined the team, so that’s why I could sympathise. I did consider it once,” Kent paused, like he was aware he was about to overshare, but he continued anyway. “Quitting, that is. And trying my luck with music again. It was when you accused me of being the mole. Not even when I’d been attacked, or when they threatened me and destroyed the incident room, but when you looked at me and sincerely thought I was the mole.”</p>
<p>He laughed, though there was no joy behind it and avoided Chandler’s eyes. Chandler felt saddened by this, new bad feelings and thoughts gripping him on behalf of Kent.</p>
<p>“Are you considering going back now with how everything is at the station?” Chandler asked. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to. <em>I </em>would if I could.”</p>
<p>Kent shook his head, a frustrated smile on his face.</p>
<p>“Well yeah, maybe if I could just join this band, but this was just a guest spot, and I can’t lie to myself. I wouldn’t be able to leave the team. I’d feel too bad leaving you to fight for yourselves with how bad everything at the station is right now. I couldn’t leave <em>you</em>,” his eyes briefly met Chandler’s before he looked away again. “I hate how it is right now, but I owe it to you all to be there to fight this despair we’re up against. I was part in making it so bad anyway. I just really needed this evening to just forget about all of that, and all of a sudden, I’m here thinking about it. This was not what I needed! I just needed a chill evening, and why are you even here?” He shut his eyes tight in frustration and clenched his jaw and fists.</p>
<p>Chandler could definitely relate to how Kent was feeling, and he was sorry that he had brought Kent away from his good evening of distraction, when Kent had done the opposite for him, but with everything Kent had just shared with him, he felt like it was only right for him to do it in return.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry to remind you of everything bad at work. I myself was hoping to be distracted from it. I went here to drink. To forget about everything,” Kent was already softening up with worry for Chandler again, but he hoped he could get away from that topic altogether. Having Kent worry about him wasn’t his intention either. “I didn’t know there would be music, but I stayed anyway, and when I saw you on stage I was amazed. You <em>shine</em> on stage, Kent. You have such a presence. You were confident and joyful and played with such talent and passion, and it made me forget about my own worries for a while. It’s not fair that I repay you like this.”</p>
<p>Over the course of Chandler talking, Kent was caught completely off guard. He had gone as red as a tomato and could barely squeak out a “thank you”, but then something shifted on his face, like his former confidence returned to him.</p>
<p>“I don’t think you know how much those words mean to me. Chandler, I’ve been in love with you for a long time, and I’m not saying this to imply anything about this,” he gestured to the two of them and the empty space around them. “But I’ve been repressing my emotions and every bad word or reaction from you has made me so <em>so</em> angry, and it’s just good to have something that’s not that for once. It’s resulted in me being angry just seeing people have what I don’t, and I had to control that, express that somehow. That’s what the song is about. My demons are the way I’ve been feeling. Thinking. Acting, and it started with you.”</p>
<p>“But you mention someone you were with?”</p>
<p>“Creative liberties. I couldn’t make it too obvious, though I’ve gone and mucked that up right now,” he looked for a moment like he was severely regretting his continuous oversharing, but still he continued. “I felt like I had one chance with you. To tell you how I felt properly, and it was when I asked you for that drink, although I didn’t really, did I? Screwed that up like I do with everything el-“</p>
<p>All of a sudden Chandler’s lips were on his, stopping his flow of speech, and the next he knew they were both messily clinging to each other as if they were in a rush. Chandler’s hands cupping the side of Kent’s face, and Kent in turn grabbing Chandler’s sides and pulling him closer, so their bodies were pressed together. The human warmth between them only serving to emphasise the cool air around them, and the comfort of the other man.</p>
<p>They finally pulled away from the kiss, and it was like it was only sinking in <em>then </em>what they’d just done. They both scanned the other’s face for any sign of regret, but there was none, and they both laughed in relief as they hugged each other close.</p>
<p>“It’s cold, huh,” Kent said with his face buried in Chandler’s shoulder.</p>
<p>“It’s warm at my place,” Chandler replied softly. “If you want to come.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading! Kudos and comments are always really appreciated! </p>
<p>Very happy that I managed to write this shorter story during Autumn break. I have so many story ideas and no time to write them, so it was good to get one of my ideas out of my head and onto the page! :) </p>
<p>The song Kent sings in this story is by a band called The Islands and it's called Struggling, and when I first heard the chorus I was just like: Oh that is written by Kent right after season 4 (although the verses fit to varying degrees), and so this story idea was born.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>